


alone together

by 2PLYRGAY, simp_of_arc



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Based on a Fall Out Boy Song, Because Shut Up, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Gay, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2PLYRGAY/pseuds/2PLYRGAY, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simp_of_arc/pseuds/simp_of_arc
Summary: Who knew that somebody's life could be changed by one summer road trip?
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	1. infinity on high

My mind would never rest. It was always doing something. Thoughts would always be running through its head, whether it be a song on a constant loop or wondering what my future would be like after high school.

That was probably why I never slept; if my mind didn't rest, neither did I. Some would call me an undiagnosed insomniac, and honestly, I didn't like that label. I didn't want a medical label. Perhaps I just had bad sleeping habits.

Whenever I would sleep, however, I would have the weirdest dreams. They weren't visionary dreams with meaning, no, that would be too boring to explain. I once had a dream that I was performing in a concert except the entire audience were just clones of my childhood dog who died when I was ten. See? Meaningless.

This night was much the same. No sleep, thoughts rushing through my head. Tonight on Nightly Thoughts With Jeremy: why are bugs always pregnant? No, I didn't know the answer, either.

I wasn't alone. In fact, I wasn't even in my own home. I was in a sleeping bag on the floor of my best friend's basement. He was sleeping right next to me soundly, and hearing the rhythm of his breathing put my thoughts somewhat at ease.

Michael was a lot more diurnal than I was; he got a full eight hours of sleep every night despite being a video game addict. I mostly took various naps throughout the day so I wouldn't die of sleep deprivation. Michael would always give me a lecture about sleep habits, but did I listen to him? No.

The window was open to let the cool summer night breeze in. The sounds of crickets and passing cars settled upon my ears. It was strangely calming.

My eyes were getting heavy, which was a feeling I wasn't very familiar with. I figured that I should maybe try to get some sleep... for once. It was getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open, and instead of resisting, I let them close and cover my vision. For the first time in a long while, my head was thoughtless.

I was on the verge of slumber when a soft "Jeremy?" jerked me back to consciousness. I rolled my body to face where the sound came from. It was Michael, wide awake as I was, his big brown eyes staring into mine.

"Yeah?" I responded.  
"I um... fuck... this is so embarrassing," he stumbled over his words.  
"Just say it, can't be any more embarrassing than the stupid shit I did in junior year, right?" did I really have to bring that up? Apparently.   
"Uhh... I had a nightmare."  
"How is that embarrassing? Everyone does."  
"I know, but, now I'm too scared to go back to sleep," he admitted.

I stared at him for a moment, now noticing a slightly-traumatized look on his face.   
"Do you need, like... a hug or something?" I asked awkwardly. Michael nodded, looking ashamed of his request. I gave him a look that assured him that I didn't mind a favor as simple as hugging my best friend.

I held out my arms and Michael slipped out of his sleeping bag. He scooted over to me and fitted himself nicely into my embrace, like two puzzle pieces. His head fell into my chest, his right ear pressed against my heartbeat.

"You're very warm," he commented, "and soft." I smiled at his comment. It weirdly flattered me. My heart rate sped up when he tightened his hold on me.

"Have you been awake this whole time?" Michael asked. His voice was muffled from his face being buried into my shirt.   
"Mhm. I don't sleep, remember?"   
"Riiiiight, how could I forget that? You look like a fucking zombie during the day," he teased.  
"Oh, shut up, you know I'm hot as hell," I said.  
"Damn right."

At this point, Michael didn't even seem scared anymore. He was just sitting here in my arms, most likely enjoying some physical contact. I didn't mind it at all. Sure, maybe it was a little gay, but best friends of the same sex can cuddle with it being platonic, right?

I suddenly felt Michael move his head and heard him gasp. It didn't sound like a bad gasp, more like an excited gasp.  
"The sky is clear!" Michael said, slipping from my hold and walking over to the open window.   
"And so it is," I followed him to the window and looked exactly where he was looking.   
"You know what that means,"  
I sighed, "Stargazing and nerdy space facts...?"  
"Stargazing and nerdy space facts."

I gave Michael awkward finger guns as some sort of way to respond to it. He eagerly grabbed my arm and ran me up two floors to his room, opening the window.  
"Wait, we're doing this on the roof?!" I asked while his body already halfway out the window.  
"Yeah, what did you expect?" Michael deadpanned.  
"Are you _not_ aware of my crippling fear of heights?"   
"Oh, you'll be fiiiiiiine."

Michael held out his hand, a soft smile on his face. I took his hand and slipped myself through the window. In paralyzed fear, I stood on the inclined rooftop. Michael looked unscathed by the height, contently lying down on the shingles. I followed his action, being careful not the slide off the roof, and laid down on my back. Throughout all of this, Michael didn't let go of my hand. I wasn't complaining, though.

We didn't say anything for a good three minutes. We just stared at the stars. I didn't know much about astronomy, besides two or three of the basic constellations, but even then I appreciated the sky above. Michael started softly humming a tune I didn't recognize. I never told him this, but he had a very pretty voice. Even my favorite singers couldn't compete.

My heart was beating at a slow and even pace, but I still had a feeling of excitement in my stomach. The feeling only grew when he tightened his grip on my hand. This was totally platonic, right? This wasn't weird, right?

"Sooo, what about them nerdy space facts?" I asked jokingly, breaking the silence and interrupting his humming.   
"Oh, yeah, what do you want to know?"  
I shrugged, "I dunno. Whatever you got, I guess."  
"Okay, okay. Did you know that every star in the night sky is bigger than the sun?"   
"I didn't know that, actually," I replied.   
"Pretty cool, right?" he turned his head to look at me and smiled.   
"Mhm."

I was getting that heavy feeling in my eyelids again. My brain was too sleepy to formulate actual words. Despite Michael being wide awake and right next to me, my eyes slowly closed and I let myself drift away from consciousness. The last thought in my mind was the feeling of Michael's hand in mine.

**word count: 1153**


	2. the last of the real ones

Compared to all those stars up there, I feel so small.

And I'm okay with it, really. I know I'm not alone—there's billions of us on this silly planet, and we all feel small sometimes. There's still so much out there that hasn't been discovered.

I tend to feel smaller than my emotions. They love to control me, which can lead to good and bad things—mostly bad. In a sense, they're just like those stars out there; all over the place, burning hot, ready to explode at any moment.

And since my stupid emotions love to control me, my mind is racing with _so many_ gay thoughts right now, and my heart is pumping so fast, and my face is so flushed. All I'm doing is laying next to my best friend.

He happens to be holding my hand, still. I wonder why he hasn't let go yet. I'm too scared to ask.

I feel the warm breeze against my skin, a feeling I'm somehow not used to. I've finally ditched my hoodie. I usually don't during the summer months (or ever, really) but lately I've felt comfortable enough to keep it off around Jeremy.

I think this is the happiest I've seen him a while. Usually seasonal depression gets him around this time of year; he becomes more pale than ever, his mood changes, and his freckles fade away. I usually keep him company and/or drag him out of bed, per Mr. Heere's request.

But he's been smiling a lot more this summer. I love seeing that smile, and I always have.

I can tell he's still an insomniac wreck, though, which is definitely why he was awake in the middle of the night. I should've smacked him upside the head for not going to sleep, but really, what good would that have done?

In all seriousness, I'm glad he was up. I really needed the comfort. My memory is foggy, and I can't even remember what happened in my nightmare. All I can remember is what it feels like to be held by him.

"Hey, Jere?"

I hardly process those words when they come from my mouth. I could talk about anything, really; I could go off in a tangent about _'forgs'_ or maybe tell him a space joke if he wants one, but I get no response.

I tilt my head to look at him, and I see why he's been so quiet.

He lays there, face turned to the sky, but his eyes are closed. I watch as his chest slowly rises, then falls. He sleeps so peacefully. I notice the little bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

"You dork," I say with a smile, though I know he isn't listening.

My gaze flicks to those freckles I've always adored. They're stars, and I want to kiss every single one of them. His face would go all red, and I'd kiss him all over again when it happens. It'd make him crack another smile to make up for all the ones I've lost.

He's the sun, and I'm just a planet revolving around him. It hasn't always been this way, though it might as well have been. I've had these feelings since...I don't remember when. It's just been that long.

I think it's absolutely stupid how I once thought everything would be over by this point, thanks to a certain incident involving a weeaboo pill—you know the one.

Here's how _that_ went down: we all got a week-long suspension for "doing ecstasy" at the school play, and Mr. Reyes got fired for letting it all happen.

Instead of facing the truth that everything was broken and _really_ needed to be fixed, I simply ignored it all. And _that's_ on unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Since we're both stubborn fucks, Jeremy and I avoided each other instead of trying to fix our problems. I thought getting a boyfriend would heal the wounds left behind.

(Spoiler alert: it didn't help a bit.)

I'm not quite sure what the breaking point was, but it came along pretty quickly. We had to talk it out, so we did. After hours of discussing the incident in the middle of Jeremy's living room floor (and some more time spent avoiding each other), we finally worked most things out. It took forever for our friendship to get back to a new kind of normal.

The dumbest shit I could've thought up was thinking the things I felt for him would just vanish forever. It didn't take long for those extremely repressed feelings to resurface, so I had to break up with Rich.

Now I'm back to pining for this boy who still doesn't acknowledge my feelings for him.

God, being in love hurts sometimes.

That's okay, though. I'm used to it already. I'm just happy that I've got him back, at least until the end of senior year; then we'll go to college, and probably not even together.

That thought just brings up a whole new set of fears, and I don't even want to think about them.

A soft, sleepy voice interrupts my train of thought. "What are you starin' at?"

I'm met with familiar eyes looking into mine. Jeremy looks so sleepy and kind of confused. I grin the stupidest fucking grin, and I place a finger over pink lips that I just want to kiss all the time.

"Shh, go back to sleep,"

"Were you watchin' me sleep?"

"No." I lie. Jeremy gives me a look. "You were asleep for, like, ten minutes!"

"You watched me sleep for ten whole minutes? You're a creep," he complains, pushing my finger away. "Let me guess, you've been observing my sleeping patterns so you'll know exactly when to kill me?"

"Har-har, that's so funny," I roll my eyes. "Totally, because I'm _totally_ a serial killer."

"Now I'm definitely not going back to sleep," Jeremy says, and I snort. I fucking _snort._

That smile I love appears, and holy shit, I almost melt. I get so warm inside again. My only coherent thought is how I just want to fucking kiss him again; that would be the only scenario I would let that smile go away in.

When I realize it, I smile too.

We're still holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 1053
> 
> -mikey


	3. 20 dollar nose bleed

I've always been in a mentality of instability. Things were always changing in my life, nothing ever stayed the same. It was as if I was sitting on a tree branch that broke, then I would fall down to the next tree branch which would also break. Does that make sense?

But, out of everything in my life that changed, there was always one person that stayed the same. That person was Michael.

Like myself, Michael was never very fond of change, particularly within himself. Sure, he would grow and mature over the years of our friendship, but he was still the same old Michael. The Michael that was never _not_ there for me, even when I was a dick. The Michael who would always go on a rant about random pieces of media that I had never heard of, but I would listen to closely.

There was no other way to describe him, he was just... Michael. My favorite Michael of all of the Michaels I may have met or will meet in my lifetime.

That was probably why I didn't let go of his hand. Additionally, along with the mushy gushy emotional reasons, his hand was just very soft. His skin in general was very soft; unlike me with little spots of acne sprinkled everywhere on my face. It wasn't as bad it used to be, but it was still existent.

I got this warm fuzzy feeling inside, and I never wanted it to go away. It was the first time I was happy in a while, and I mean a _while_. There was always something that would kill my mood, whether it be school or work or my mommy issues. But at that moment, on the roof, hand-in-hand with Michael, there was nothing wrong. It was the first time in weeks, or even months, I felt truly at peace with myself.

"Jer, look."  
  
Michael slightly tugged my arm with the hand I was holding. I sat up at a ninety degree angle and looked at the horizon. The view we had was your run-of-the-mills east coast suburban view. Trees, telephone poles, houses, cell towers, and more trees.

And then I saw what Michael wanted me to look at. The sky faded from a pitch black to a lighter purple, and the fade in colors eventually lead to a pink and orange right on the horizon line.

"Good thing we stayed on the roof, huh?" I said to him.  
"It's so... so pretty," Michael said, his eyes almost in a trance from the pure beauty of the morning sky.   
And just like that, I was smiling again. Not because of the sunrise, but because of how in awe he was of said sunrise. Another thing I really loved about Michael was how he appreciated the little things in life. Like me, happiness was one of the rarer luxuries, so it made him appreciate everything beautiful. It was a trait I could only dream of having.

It took several minutes for the sun to completely light up the sky into normal daylight. Both of us had barely said anything for those several minutes, not that we needed to, of course. For quite a few of those minutes, I was staring at Michael more than the sunrise.

When it was finally finished, Michael's eyes drifted from the sky to me, "Hey, I got weed," he pointed his thumb behind him towards the window.   
A mischievous smile plagued my lips, "Say no more."

Michael stood up carefully on the roof. I followed his actions with trembling appendages. It wasn't until he pulled me back inside of his room through the window when he finally let go of my hand. It was an empty emotional feeling I experienced when he did that, but I brushed it off.

He went through his dresser and pulled out a little sandwich bag of the devil's lettuce. It felt fulfilling to see weed I was actually going to smoke.

We rushed down into his basement and practically leaped into our classic designated beanbags that have been in use since we were both in middle school. If I could sit in the same place for the rest of my life, it would've been in that bean bag.

Michael rolled up his own weed like a pro. He took out a lighter and lit his blunt, once again, like a pro. My own eyes were glued on his every movement for me to imitate.

I carefully rolled up the weed in the paper before bringing it to my lips. I took the lighter from Michael's hand, the same hand I was holding just minutes before, and lit the blunt. I slowly breathed in the smoke as it filled my mouth, throat, and lungs. It was a feeling that I almost forgot about before I experienced it again.

My body was practically screaming at me to cough, but I held it in so Michael wouldn't make fun of me as he did many times before. I managed to exhale a puff of smoke in a shaky breath.

I turned my head over to Michael, who was lost in his own thoughts. He was staring at the wall while breathing out his own puff of smoke. It danced in the air. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him to do, but for some reason, my eyes couldn't get away from him.

I took another hit, and then another, and yet another, and the effects of the weed finally started to kick in. I didn't quite know how to describe how I felt under the influence, it just felt... nice.

"Brooo," Michael said. His eyes were red and watery, and I assumed mine where the same.   
"Yeah?"   
"Why do you think penises don't have bones in them?"  
My eyes widened as I took another puff, "Dicks don't have bones?"  
"Of course they don't, you pissbaby. You should know, you _have_ one," Michael laughed.  
"You have one, too. And don't call me a pissbaby."  
"I'll call you whatever the hell I want."

I didn't answer. I simply reclined my body in the bean bag chair and basked in the baked-ness.   
"You never answered my questionnnnn!" he chirped.  
I rolled my eyes, "I don't know the answer, get over it."

This was a strange way to end off a sleepover. It started with Michael having a nightmare, then stargazing, then me getting my first wink of sleep in several months, then pondering, then watching the sun rise, and then getting high. I expected more pondering to follow after I sobered up, but at that moment, my only concern was why I was worthy of being called a pissbaby.

"Yo, wanna shotgun?" Michael asked suddenly after a few minutes of silence. Even when high, the question shocked me.  
"Do I wanna what?" I asked.  
"Shotgun, duh. Didn't you hear me the first time?"  
"But Michael, that's gay."  
"And Jeremy, we're wearing socks."

I thought about it for a moment, and the idea wasn't revolting. It was just an idea; and idea that high me was down to do.

"Yeah, sure, bro."

I knew that response would be something I would regret later, but that was something my mind didn't feel like digesting. It was something I've never done before, so that made me want to do it.

My body shifted closer to Michael so that I could get a fair share of the smoke he was soon to breathe out. It was a good distance; not too close, not too far. Just right.

Without a single word, Michael took a deep inhale from the blunt while giving me a look I couldn't decipher. A few moments later, he breathed out the smoke into the space between us, and I slowly took it in.

My face became hot. Whether from the smoke or not, I didn't know.

"I liked that," I said bluntly.  
He stared at me for a split second before snorting in genuine laugher, "You _would._ "   
"Can we do it again?"

He nodded before taking another hit. This time, he leaned his face really closed to mine. I saw every feature of his face clearly in my vision. He was so... pretty? Yeah, that was the word. Pretty.

I barely even remembered to breathe in the smoke he gave, I was just so fixated on his eyes. They were dark, so you couldn't see much, but even while he was high you could see him containing all of his emotions in them.

In fact, I was so fixated on them that I didn't realize how close our heads were drifting towards each other. The room suddenly became burning hot.

Before I knew what was happening, our lips brushed for a split second before Michael recoiled backwards away from me.

He looked flustered and horrified while I simply sat up straight and processed the information. _Did that really just happen?_

We said nothing. We did nothing. We only stared at each other.

If there was no weed plaguing my mind I would've tried to rationalize this by thinking, _Oh, our faces just accidentally bumped together,_ or, _we were just high, it's not gay._ My mind was plagued with weed, however, and there was no rationalizing for this one.

All I knew was that it felt nice.

**word count: 1560**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "O my god does jeremy have an amphetamine addiction-"
> 
> "no, mikey, it's benzedrine."
> 
> hey ❤️
> 
> i tried okay
> 
> \- mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmᵃʳⁱ


	4. you put my head in such a flurry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so so sorry for the wait!! i’ve been in a roughy place mentally lately, but i’ve managed to put this chapter together, and i’m proud of it for once :’) i hope you guys like it. big thanks to mari for editing it <3
> 
> -jeremy/mars

_It's late January 2019, mid-junior year; almost five months before I stupidly make that first move._

_Things are still awkward, but I try making it up to Jeremy with a late night trip to Seven-Eleven. Maybe if we can pretend like things are normal—just like old times—then it won't feel so weird._

_We stand outside my car in the parking lot, sipping on slushies despite how cold it is. I've offered to have us sit back in the car, but Jeremy said it was okay, so we continue to stand here without any complaints._

_It feels nice to have him here. There were countless times where I'd come here alone to talk to Veronica, praying it'd get me a slushie on the house that day, just to have some part of him still with me. The memory doesn't feel like a fucking stab wound in the back anymore—it's a soft aching feeling, enough to be bothersome without me actually doing anything about it._

_I still don't have closure, but I do have Jeremy. He hums to himself, a melody I can't recognize. It's one of those things he thinks I don't notice, but I always do._

_His hands are covered with the sleeves of that stupid cardigan with the thumb holes, keeping them warm enough as he holds his half-frozen drink. ("Aren't you cold? Do you need a jacket or something?" "No, I'm perfectly warm. It's okay." He's obviously lying through his teeth.)_

_From here, I notice all the things I don't get to observe around our friends. His_ _front curls_ _fall into his eyes as he slouches;_ he needs a haircut soon, _I think. His nose and cheeks are red, and his freckles are at the center of my attention, as always._

_I could look at him for hours—but I don't want to get caught staring and get called creepy. So I look at the sky instead._

_I never wanted to be an astronaut when I was little. I wanted to be a zookeeper—I just had to be different, I suppose. But now... I think going into space doesn't seem so bad. It'd be nice to see those stars up there from a different angle._

_"That's Mars," I say, pointing to said planet. From here, it looks like an obnoxiously bright star, but I know better; one of the first things I learned about space was how to tell the difference between planets and stars in the sky._

_Jeremy immediately stops humming. He points to somewhere in the sky, nowhere near Mars. "That one?"_

_"No, not that one," I say, grabbing his hand. I accidentally lean into his side, and I help him point to Mars. "This one."_

_"The really bright one_ _?_ _" he_ _asks._

_"Yep."_

_My hand lingers on his for a while longer. He doesn't push me away, he doesn't say anything._ _We're so... close._ _My chest feels like it's going to burst._

_"Jeremy?"_

_He turns to me, and I see his face. I've never been more thankful for those obnoxious fluorescent lights in front of the Seven-Eleven. Tired, blue eyes meet mine—they weren't always blue._

_His expression screams "What do you want?", and all I wish to say is "I just wanted an excuse to see you."_

_"Random Q and A session," I say instead of that. "Ask me anything."_

_We've had a lot of these "Q and A sessions" since we became friends again. We ask legitimate questions, stupid questions, and everywhere in between. It was my idea—this way, we can continue to know everything about each other, all the little secrets and things that nobody else gets to know._

The more I think about him, the more I crave that smile, his touch, the sound of his voice. My mind is full of nothing but thoughts of him, and all I want is for him to kiss me and pin me to my bed and I want to feel his hands press against my flesh—too much blood seems to be flowing right now. I have an overactive imagination.

I'm going to simply ignore how my mind went into the gutter for a moment. Even if Jeremy did like guys, he wouldn't be into me—that's just how these things go. He's got a type, and his type is... girls. I don't see the appeal, but they make him happy, I guess.

I'm okay with being Jeremy's best friend. I'm not okay with hopelessly wishing that we were something more, and I'm not okay with how bad I've got it for him.

I just need a distraction, and luckily, it's easy for me to become distracted. My gaze shifts to the doorway, where my _favoritest_ golden retriever stands, tail wagging and all. That makes a switch in my brain go off.

Immediately, I rush over and drop to the floor, smiling stupidly. Joe tackles me, knocking me onto my back. He stands on my chest and licks my face all over, which makes me erupt into laughter.

"Hi there, buddy," I say through giggles, stroking his fur. He acts like I wasn't just loving on him twenty minutes ago.

"Is Momma still here?" I ask, knowing I'm not going to get an answer. He's a fucking dog. He can't talk.

Joe licks my face again, and the question disappears from my mind. I continue to pet him and laugh and ask him _who's a good boy?_ (Spoiler alert: it's him), and slowly begin struggling to breathe as he continues to stand on my chest.

"You good in here?"

I push my glasses back up my face and look over Joe, who's trying so hard to get belly rubs. Momma stands at the door, looking perplexed.

"Oh, yeah, I was just..." Having an episode? Beating myself up (but mostly my walls) for feelings that should be okay to have? Petting the dog because doing that is the equivalent of having a conversation with my therapist?

I never finish that sentence.

"Do you want me to help? I can take some bags to the car," I offer.

"I've got it. Get off my baby," she tells Joe, tapping his side with her shoe. "Move, you dog."

Joe does just that. He's scared of my mom, and I can absolutely see why.

"He was keeping me warm," I pout.

"I want a hug," she says.

"That will cost you twenty bucks, my dear," I say, getting back to my feet and adjusting my hoodie. Momma gives me the look. "I also take pesos?"

"Come on, don't be a little shit," she says, and I grin. It's funny because I'm a lot taller than her.

"I suppose you get a discount," I sigh, wrapping my arms around her. "One hundred percent off, just for my mommy."

Her soft hair brushes against my face, and I finally feel her arms around me. I think this hug is what I've needed. She's nice and warm and squishy, just how everyone says that I am.

"Don't get arrested," she says, keeping me trapped in her embrace. I can't tell if it's a joke or not.

"I'm not going to get arrested," I say. She rolls her eyes and kisses my forehead. "Gross," I tease.

"You're gross," she shoots back; within my newfound state of complete embarrassment, I can only think to change the subject.

"Have fun on your vacation! I'm going to invite so many people over here while you're gone," I joke. "It'll be like Cady's party in _Mean Girls._ "

"I wouldn't put it past you," she says—I'm not sure why she says it. "You can have Jeremy over, and that's it. Wait, no, you can have Jacob over too if you'd like. He's a very nice boy," she tells me. "But nobody else."

"I promise I won't pull a Cady Heron," I assure her. She grins, showing off the dimples I got from her, and kisses me on the cheek.

"I'll see you in two weeks," she says, letting go of me; I finally get my personal space back.

"See you in two weeks," I say. "Tell your _girlfriend_ I said hi."

She rolls her eyes at me once more, and promises to tell Lucy I said hello. I watch her as she goes, and stop focusing in once I hear the front door close.

I sigh. I love my mom, but human interaction is exhausting. Especially with her.

I begin to think: I'll really be bored out of my mind if I'm stuck here on my own for two weeks. Maybe Jeremy really wouldn't mind staying for a while? He's seemed to tolerate me a lot more lately. I think he wouldn't mind keeping a lonely boy company.

I wonder what he'd want to do—we're definitely not getting baked for a while, that's for sure. I can't make the same stupid mistake twice.

I look down at Joe. "Pizza and video games," he says, but it's really just this weird-sounding voice in my mind.

"Yeah!" I agree, "Pizza and video games sounds like an awesome idea, but... wait... for _two weeks?_ Besides, we've spent every summer eating pizza and playing video games."

I think I want to do something more—for once this is a decision for myself, and not one I think will impress Jeremy.

"Joseph, what do you think? What should we do? _Besides_ pizza," I say. "Should I tell him how I feel?"

He doesn't say anything; he just gives me sympathetic puppy eyes.

"You're right," I sigh, "that's a stupid idea. Pizza is better."

But then again, what ideas do I have that _aren't_ stupid? I'm literally talking to my fucking dog that I named Joseph. I punch the walls when things go wrong, I fall for boys who I have no chance with, I once decided to keep driving when the neighbors loose cat was in the road...

I didn't think he was going to just stand there! But he did, and—great, now all I can think about is the cat in the middle of the road.

_The road, the road, road..._ I've got it.

A road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 2225  
> -jere<3


	5. folie á deux

One hour and twenty-six minutes.

That was how long I stared at myself in my bathroom mirror.

Eighty-six minutes of pure wading in my own thoughts. Eighty-six minutes of reviewing myself as a whole.

Eighty-six minutes of trying to fathom what happened just a few hours earlier.

My brain told me that it was nothing. It didn't mean anything. It was a simply an accidental moment of contact between our lips. It meant _nothing._

The moment it happened felt like a blur. I was completely baked, of course, we both were. I just... let it happen while he pulled away.

I stared at the place where his lips landed. I could still feel it. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to feel it again.

I slapped myself in the face at that thought. This was all so _wrong_. I shouldn't have been feeling like this. There was no reason to. It was a simple accident.

_Right?_

"Stop it," I commanded myself, "stop."

Of course, the thought still lingered, but my mind pushed it to the very back where it was never intended to be seen again.

The eighty-six minutes ended. I turned the knob and finally left my bathroom. It was time to move on to a different running thought, one that was less stressful.

"You were in there for a _while_ ," I jumped at the sudden comment before turning my head to see my dad. He stood in the entrance of the hallway, sipping out of a mug that contained the words "#1 DAD." I got him that for father's day in middle school with the little pocket money that I had.

"Jesus Christ, you scared me so bad," I replied.  
He shrugged, "Just wanted to check to see if you were okay, bud."  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."  
"You're not fine, I've never seen you be in the bathroom for so long."  
I let out an exasperated sigh, "Why were you even paying attention to what I was doing, anyway?"

Dad took another long, drawn out sip from his mug, "I'm your father."  
"Dad, I'm fine, okay?"  
"Alright, alright, if you say so," he said.

I began the trail up to my bedroom when I was caught by one more sentence from him, "Where's Michael? Wasn't he here?"  
"He left a few hours ago," I said.  
"Huh. I didn't notice. Well, have fun staying in your room. It must be _real_ exciting in there if you're in there all the time."   
"Ha ha ha, very funny," my eyes rolled.

Dad smiled softly, "I'm just messing with you, kiddo. Stay up there as long as you need, just don't forget about your dear old dad."   
"How could I not," I smiled back. It was a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless.

I rushed up to my room before I had to make any more conversation with him. I loved my dad, yes, but talking to adults was so fucking hard. They would think they understood what you were going through, but in fact, it was just from generalizing all teenagers. That was... not so nice.

I didn't even grab my phone first. I just immediately collapsed onto my bed and clung to the soft puffy blankets. I missed Michael. He was just here a few hours ago, yes, but I still missed him. I felt like this every time we ended our hangout sessions.

The thought of Michael got replaced with another one; junior year. The only thing I wanted to think of less than when we sort of kissed this morning.

He was so hurt. All because of me. I wasn't the same stupid and selfish kid I was in junior year, but that stupid and selfish kid was _me._

The look Michael gave me at that party still haunted me after over a year. It wasn't the same look of rage he gave me during the whole conversation beforehand, it was just pure sadness and hurt. It was like he gave up on holding onto me.

And for a several weeks, he did. I didn't know what the fuck made him come back to me, but he did. I didn't deserve it, but he did.

The whole thought just made me want to pull out my phone and text Michael a long paragraph reminding him how sorry I was and how much I loved him and how much he meant to me out of the blue. But of course, I didn't. I was too nervous to do something like that, honestly. Things have been awkward between us for the last few hours.

Even after my brain moved on from that situation, Michael still lingered. It was like he firmly planted himself in my thoughts and had no intention of leaving. I knew it was kind of... weird... but I didn't care. My thoughts were my thoughts, they had a mind of their own.

I was suddenly interrupted by the repeated buzzing of my phone. My body shot up into a ninety-degree angle as I reached for it.

My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw Michael's contact fill my screen. It didn't say "Michael," of course, it was something stupid like, "stoner bsf lol." I could've come up with something more creative, but Michael thought it was funny.

I figured this would most likely be an awkward conversation about what happened. My panicking brain struggled to find composure and the right first line to say when I picked up the phone.

When I swiped the call icon, "I'mreallysorryaboutwhathappenedearlierpleasedon'tbemadatme," was the answer I went with. The internal facepalm I gave myself was stellar.

"What?" Michael asked, "What did you say?"   
I clenched my teeth, "Uh uhm, nothing. Hi."  
"Hi," he said, chuckling as he did so. The chuckle made me feel something. I wasn't exactly sure what it was. The only way I could describe it was a good heart attack.  
"Why-Why'd you call?" I asked.  
"We're going on a road trip."  
"A what?"  
"A road tri- y'know what, just get your ass over here. I'll tell you everything."

My entire being was in a state of discombobulation, "Wait, so... you're _not_ mad at me?"  
There was a pause on the other line before he responded, "N-No...? Why?"   
"Because of what happened this morning."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, almost too fast, "just get over here. We'll plan everything from there."

He hung up before I could say anything else.

I let out a long and shaky breath. That was... a lot to take in; especially since I thought he was mad at me or some shit. But he wasn't. He had no memory of it as far as I knew.

Despite everything, I did what he said. I got my ass up, put on my blue converse shoes, and walked to his house.

His house wasn't very far from mine. Only about half a mile or so. Darkness was beginning to set over the sky and stars were appearing. I tried to look for Mars, the planet that Michael told me looked like a super bright star in the sky. I couldn't find it, but the memory sat in my mind anyway.

I began to get impatient with how long this walk was taking. I began to run as fast as I could. Michael probably didn't want to wait for me that long.

By the time I got to his front door, I was already out of breath. I rung the doorbell, and I heard someone running to the door. It was Michael, obviously, and he opened it as soon as he saw me through the peephole.

I stood in the doorway, my body bent over and my hands resting on my thighs. I was heavily panting from my trek. Michael stared at me like I was insane.

"What are you..." I breathed, "...looking at?"  
"You. Why are you panting?" he responded, more like a statement than a question.  
"Because... I wanted to get here quick?" I stood up straight and was forced to face his eyes again.

Our gazes were awkwardly locked on each other for a moment. I remembered the entire moment, though. His expression towards me was blank and captivated until he killed the awkwardness with a soft smile. That weird feeling came rushing to my body.

"What are _you_ looking at?" he chuckled. _Goddammit._  
"Nothing. What was it you wanted to tell me?"   
"Road trip, I said that already. My mom is gonna be gone for two weeks."  
"Two weeks, ay?"   
Michael nodded, "Two weeks. And we're gonna use those two weeks to go on a road trip."  
"To where?"

He removed his hands from his hoodie pocket to make stupid little jazz hands, "Colorado."   
"Why Colorado?" I asked, "What's there?"  
"The Google images of it looked pretty. I've never been, but that's about to change."

I barely even noticed the last thing he said. My eyes were locked on his hands. He had scrapes all over his knuckles. The sight caught me off guard: they did NOT look like that when he was over this morning.

"What happened to your hands?" I blurted before I could stop myself.   
Michael completely stopped his ramble. He looked me dead in the eye like my question was his greatest fear, "Huh?"   
"Y-your hands."   
"Oh, uh... I fell in my driveway," he said dismissively.  
"Want me to put something on it? You don't want them to get infected."  
"You're not my mom, Jeremy. I'll be fine."  
"You sure?"  
"Yeah."

I didn't believe him for a single second, but I stopped asking questions. There was no point to it. It wouldn't get me anywhere.

I noticed him stuff his hands back into his hoodie pocket. His shoulders were tense and his posture stiffened. I immediately regretted asking questions at all.

"Also, uh, I got pizza. No pepperoni, though. I know you can't have pork," Michael said after a silence.  
"Thank you for respecting my religion," I replied.   
"Hey, I'm not an asshole. I remember this stuff."

He went over to the kitchen and opened a cardboard box on the counter. I grabbed a plate and a slice and took a seat at his kitchen table. He sat across from me with his own slice.

"So, uh..." I began, "How are we gonna pay for all of this? Gas? Food? Hotel or motel? We can't sleep in the car."  
Michael took a bite from his pizza before answering, "I got it all covered. Emergency credit card."  
"You shouldn't have to pay for everything! I'll run back home real quick and get some cash and-"  
"Nonononono, you are staying right the fuck here. I told you, I got it all covered. You are not paying for a _thing_."

I was about to protest until Michael gave me a dorky smile. It made me feel... warm. So, I shut up. I couldn't argue with that face.

"And uh, when are we leaving?" I asked before taking a bite off of the crust.   
"As soon as possible, preferably tonight."   
"TONIGHT?!"

Michael flinched at my volume. I immediately realized how loud I was and calmed my nerves.  
"Sorry, sorry. Tonight? I still have to pack and stuff. I gotta tell my dad what's happening, too."   
"Sure thing. I'll drive you home, you can pack and tell your dad what's going on, then we'll hit the road."  
My heart rate sped up. I had never done anything like this before, and that made me excited, "Deal."

It only took around a minute to drive back to my house. I went back inside while Michael waited in the car.

After packing my clothes, some snacks, a charger and some toiletries that would last me the trip, I hauled my full-to-bursting suitcase down the stairs.

I froze when I saw my dad standing in the kitchen. He looked at me, confused, and sipping his cup of coffee.  
  
"You're not running away, are you? Is this because of that comment I made about staying in your room?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not.  
"U-uh, no, I'm going on a road trip with Michael. I won't be back for a few days."  
My dad stared at me for a second before shrugging, "I mean, it could be worse. You could be alone, but you're with Michael. I trust Michael. Just try not to die or anything, okay buddy?"   
I grimaced, "Yes, dad, I will try not to die. I'll see you when I get back."

If you were wondering why the fuck my dad was so cool about me going on a road trip suddenly, I wouldn't have an answer for you. The stupid impulsive shit I did had become routine for him at that point. Nothing surprised him anymore.

I left, locking the door behind me, and stuffed my suitcase into Michael's trunk. I hopped into the passenger seat next to him and let out a breath.

"Ya ready?" Michael asked, smiling.  
"Hell yeah."

This was gonna be madness for two.

**word count: 2190**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me like a week to write but hopefully it's worth it and it didn't turn out like shit
> 
> your turn, jerm
> 
> \- mari <3

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all
> 
> welcome to the gayest shit you will ever read in your life
> 
> i hope you somewhat enjoy this because we've been working on this fic for like six months so >:)
> 
> kay bye you simps
> 
> \- mari


End file.
